


rejoiced in the hopeless, we loved under atomic skies

by your_bespoke_psychopath



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, achronological and timey-wimey, angst and fluff and TARDIS cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 14:13:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_bespoke_psychopath/pseuds/your_bespoke_psychopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While there are moments of bubbling happiness and bliss, there are also months of painful separation and silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rejoiced in the hopeless, we loved under atomic skies

**Author's Note:**

> At least in this fandom you don't have to apologise for achronology.
> 
> Thanks to Eris for looking it over and inspiring the TARDIS cake part :].  
> Title comes from 'Under atomic skies' by IAMX.

**205.**

‘Come on, River. Focus. It is not that difficult.’

‘It is!’

‘Fine. It is. But if you put a little more effort in it, I am sure you’d learn it in a second.’

‘You know what? Just forget it. Forget that I ever wanted to learn Gallifreyan. Forget that I came across these books in your library. Let’s pretend it never happened. Now, can we go somewhere?’

‘River, sit down. I know it’s not as easy as stealing cars and shooting all my hats, but it’s not impossible.’

‘But it’s a dead language! I am sorry sweetie, but you are the only one who speaks and understands it. What would I need it for?’

‘Your habilitation thesis.’

‘Sweetie, I am in prison. I hardly doubt that they’ll let me anywhere near university in the next 3 millennia or so.’

‘You could also send me messages in Gallifreyan. I am not saying you do or will do thing like that, because that would be a spoiler, but-‘

‘Are they naughty messages?’

‘River! Honestly-‘

‘They most definitely are naughty messages then. I think I like it! Alright. Let’s try it again.’

‘I can’t believe that this is the argument that convinced you. Okay then – try to read this line again.’

‘Why are you laughing? Stop that!’

‘You just... Instead of greeting someone and wishing them a good day, you just insulted their manhood.’

‘This is not funny!’

‘It is, trust me, it is! But don’t you even dare to remember it and repeat it ever again... And of course you will remember it and use it, right?’

‘Not my fault I have great memory.’

‘For all the wrong things!’

‘So many you should teach me all the wrong things, Doctor. So. How do you say pen-‘

‘No! River no! I won’t teach you things like that! Just no! The lesson is over!’

 

**521.**

It takes her some time to realise this simple fact: their story is not a fairy tale. He’s not her knight in a shining armour, he’s as much of a hero, as he is of a monster. She’s a murderous bride, the perfect killing machine who rebelled against her creators. She doesn’t sit in her tower, idly waiting for her saviour. He doesn’t always wait for her.

While there are moments of bubbling happiness and bliss, there are also months of painful separation and silence.

They lie to each other.

He forgets her.

She pops into his life and without warning, destroying the façade of order he believes he’s built around himself.

He doesn’t always trust her.

They throw angry and hateful words at each other, always trying to bring down the walls they’ve put around each others’ hearts.

And yet, none of them is willing to end this, say ‘stop’, to turn around and run away. They stay stuck in the vicious circle of love and misery, unable to break out.

This is not a fairy tale.

There are no happy endings in their future.

 

**903.**

When her parents are gone, he asks her to travel with him. She declines. She knows better than that. She may be what he wants, but she's not what he needs. He needs child-like wonder and amazement. He needs wide-eyed innocence and joy. He needs someone pure and whole, someone who will make him see everything in a new light.

She cannot give him that. She's too damaged, she's been through too much, she's seen too much. She's too much like him. She doesn’t lighten up his shadows, she enhances them.

(But oh, it'd be so simple to forget about it and just agree. To travel with him, run through time and space, jump over supernovas, never look back.

They would be ruinous together. Two lonely gods, destroying everything they touch, leaving fire and debris behind them, no one to stop them.)

 

**779.**

'Sweetie, you're back so quickly? Miss me already?'

'No, I just came.'

'Yes, I know. I was there.'

'What? You're making no sense, River. And why are you wearing a sheet?'

'Wait. Wait. What are you doing here?'

'You sent me a message. With coordinates. So here I am.'

'Sweetie, no offence, but are you sure you entered the right coordinates?'

'Yes, I am sure! Honestly, River. Look.'

'... Great. The coordinates are all fine, but I didn't send the message. I will send it. It seems that my future self has a dreadful sense of humour.'

'So it wasn't you? River, you cannot just send me messages like that! I have things to do and planets to save and- why are you wrapped in this sheet? Are you cold?'

'When are we for you, sweetie?'

'We did Byzantium some time ago. And The Pandorica recently.'

'Utah?'

'No.'

'Okay, early days then. Sweetie, sorry for the unnecessary trip here, but it seems that future me felt a bit mischievous. You're free to go.'

‘Oh, come on, I am already here, it'd be a shame to waste a chance like that!'

'What?'

'We could go somewhere - the Ponds are at home, being all married and boring. We could go somewhere together. Have you seen Esytulrid? They have this little forest where fearies live! Well, they're not fearies, only small gnomes with wings and they are quite ugly, but-'

'Sweetie, thank you for the offer, but I am a bit tired.'

'We can go somewhere relaxing! Like Crinia. Greatest beaches in the universe, with edible sand!'

'Doctor, it's lovely, but I think I will just stay here.'

'Rubbish! Just unwrap that sheet and let's go! I promise you, it's warm inside the TARDIS and- don't put that sheet tighter, come on, River!'

'Doctor. Don’t tug on that sheet, I- I don't have anything underneath.'

'What do you mean you don't have- oh.'

'Yeah.'

'Did they take away your clothes? The guards?'

'No no, nothing like that, it's fine.'

'It is not fine, you cannot be without your clothes! You may catch a cold! River, there is something on your neck, wait... Is that a bruise?'

'No, it's nothing, I am okay, really-'

'It is a bruise! Did someone hurt you? Who was that?'

'I had a visitor, Doctor, okay?! I had a visitor!'

'And they did that to you?!'

'It was a male visitor.'

'And how does it- oh. Oh. _Oh._ '

'Yes.'

'... I see. Uhm. Well. That changes a lot.'

'Sweetie, I-'

'No, it is okay. I will go now.'

'Doctor. It's not like that.'

'Well, it is none of my business. I’ll just go now, and you know. Do something. I have many things to do, you know?’

‘Darling, you don’t understand so many things yet.’

‘No, I understand. You have a man friend, and it’s okay. It’s fine. It’s perfectly fine, and it doesn’t bother me. At all.’

‘That’s really good, because-‘

‘It doesn’t bother me at all and it’s none of my business and- River, is it a bow tie on your bed? What is a bow tie doing there? Your male visitor wears bow ties as well? Ha! Wait. It looks a bit like one of mine. River, what is my bow tie doing on your bed?’

 

**172.**

Sometimes, when he thinks she doesn’t notice, she catches him looking her with this unbearable sadness in his eyes.

He looks at her like she’s mercury, slipping through his fingers, away from his grip. He looks at her like she’s fading, becoming paler and paler, a mere ghost of herself, like she’s smoke, blown away in the wind.

He looks at her like he’d already lost her.

 

**003.**

She enrolls for an archaeology course at The Luna University. When the dean asks her why she wants to study it, she answers truthfully that she’s looking for a good man.

(Technically, it’s cheating. Looking for a time traveller in history books and in broken artefacts looks like an easy way to do it. She doesn’t care. And then she cheats some more.)

 She looks for him not only in the books – she looks for him in time. She reads about events he was, is, will be a part of and goes to see them with her own eyes.

(She has a vortex manipulator that she acquired from a sloshed time agent. Officially, time travel was banned. Unofficially, as long as you don’t get caught, it’s alright. She never gets caught.)

She doesn’t always see the bow-tie wearing version of him. She pops up in different moments of his timeline – moments when he didn’t know her yet. She watches him in his first incarnation – a grumpy old man, slowly becoming gentler thanks to his companions. She observes the version of him that wears a leather jacket and tortured expression on his face – and expression that lightens up when a bubbly and bright young woman joins him. She snorts when she sees the version of him that wears velvet and ruffles, and promises herself to tease him about it later. She has a soft spot for his fourth face, with hair just as crazy as hers.

She never lets him see her. Even this young, she understands the rules. Besides – it’s so much fun watching him and learning about him, about all the people in his life, about all the events that shaped and changed him.

When she’s in her 4th year, the books and occasional spying on him is not enough. She wants to talk with someone who knows him. Someone who can tell her something other than she’s heard so far.

(‘ _Assassin, murderer, monster_ ’ whispered by Madame Kovarian in a small and dark room, ‘ _hero, funny, raggedy Doctor’_ exclaimed by Amy.)

So she visits his previous companions. She listens to their stories, she asks questions. They’re all reluctant at first, but after some time, they open up and tell her stories – the stories they lived. The stories about the Doctor. They paint him in variety of shades: a hero, an angel, a devil, a destroyer, a healer, an asshole, a helper, an idiot, a hoper, an inspiration.

An image of a man is slowly starting to crystallise inside her head, becoming more and more detailed with every day.

She still has to find a good man in him.

 

**642.**

(He slips only once.

She doesn’t notice.)

It was supposed to be a date. A normal date, without running around and saving the universe and almost getting killed in the process. It doesn’t happen like that. Of course.

Instead of a planet with 3 suns – one of them made of sapphires, making the whole planet shimmer and glow, they ended up at the funfair. On Earth. In the early 22nd century. It isn’t that bad, it’s even a bit of fun – they run from one booth to another, eat cotton candy and try their strength at various competitions. Everything goes smoothly until they walk into a haunted house. The haunted house that turns out to be run my murderous and bloody-thirsty clowns.

She’s not even that surprised by the turn of events.

They run through various corridors and rooms, trying to find the way to the main control room, because according to the Doctor, they’ll be able to find the computer there, re-program the clowns and trace their signal back to whoever sends it. She nods, only half-listening to him, trying to shoot down any clown who jumps at them from every dark nook in the house. By the time their finally manage to reach the control room – which is not an easy thing to do as the house does not want them to find it, it changes or blocks their way – she’s tired and stressed, and her hand and fingers hurt from pulling the trigger all the time. The Doctor sits in front of the computer, trying to change the code and find the person responsible for this mess, and she stands on guard. They closed the door behind them and barricaded them with everything they found in the room – chairs, a small desk, a lamp, but she still hears the clowns on the opposite side. They hit the door repeatedly and restlessly, with hollow thump, thump that echoes through the small room. The Doctor is typing nervously on the keyboard – _click, click, click_ – and after what seems to be an eternity, he finally exclaims ‘Gotcha!’ and mumbles something like ‘try to beat that, evil clowns!’.

Behind the door she hears bodies falling down and hitting the floor. She opens it  – slowly, cautiously – and looks at the corridor through a small crack between the door and the wall. The clowns lie lifelessly on the floor, looking like toys, thrown around on a carpet. She walks slowly towards the one laying closest to her, kneeling and checking if Doctor really succeeded. It seems he did – the clown’s features lack their previous frown and barred teeth, their crooked grin. Now it looks calm and polished, a normal face with a bright smile painted on it, a cheerful, perfectly non-menacing smile. She sighs with relief and turns to Doctor saying they’re ready to go, when the creature throws itself at her. It’s slow and weak, but she’s thrown off guard and too surprised by the sudden attack to react. She catches a glimpse of something shiny – a knife - in the clown’s hand, and the next thing she feels is burning pain in her side. The clown pushes the knife deeper and then yanks it away, then finally falls lifelessly to the ground. She gasps and presses a hand to the wound – the fabric is already sticky with blood, the crimson stain getting bigger and bigger, contrasting with the bright blue of her dress – the Doctor is by her side, disabling the clown, cradling her in his arms, trying to check out her wound without hurting her, slowly getting her to her feet and talking about getting her to the TARDIS.

Everything’s hazy.

The house keeps on changing and re-arranging the rooms, they’re lost and walking in circles, never coming close to the exit. She’s feeling weak, a bit light headed from the loss of blood and the constant dull pain in her abdomen. He’s been carrying her for some time now as she’s too weak to walk on her own.

‘Sweetie, just leave me here’, she manages to rasp. ‘I am slowing you down. I- I’m not going to make it and-‘.

‘No. This is not how it works, River,’ he says and presses her tighter against his chest. ‘You don’t die here.’

‘You make it sound like there’s a timetable for that,’ she manages a breathless laugh and grimaces at another wave of pain shooting through her body.

‘Just- Just hold on, River. You’ll be fine,’ he responds, his voice hollow and dark. She presses her face into his neck, breathing the scent of time and stars, the scent of tweed and the faint smell of sweat, and she prays to whoever may hear her that he’s right.

(She is too dizzy to notice the tight line of his jaw, the pain in his eyes and the knowing look on his face. She doesn’t register his words nor understands the true meaning behind them.

She doesn’t die here.

She dies somewhere else.)

 

**031.**

‘Do you miss her when you’re with me?’

‘Miss who?’

‘Her. Me. Older me.’

‘You’re the same person, River.’

‘But I am not her, not yet anyway. And sometimes you look at me like... Like I’m not quite finished yet.’

‘You are her, River. You’ll become her.’

‘And what if I don’t? What happens then, Doctor?’

He doesn’t answer.

 

**584.**

'Do you regret it?' he asks her once. The unspoken 'would you ever re-write it?' hangs in the air between them, settling heavily on her hearts.

(Regret what? Being brainwashed and trained to be a killer? Growing up without her parents? Living her whole childhood in fear that a spaceman will eat her? Never being the daughter Rory and Amy deserved and dreamed of? Not having even a chance of normal life and family? Spending her life in prison, being labelled as a murderess? Watching him drift further and further away from her? Yes.

But does she regret saving him? Loving him? Travelling through time and space by his side? Saving worlds, discovering the wonders scattered between stars? No. How could she?)

She doesn't answer.

 

**384.**

Celebrating her birthday is not something she's used to. The Silence and Madame Kovarian weren't the best care takers in the world and they cared more about her learning to shoot with her eyes closed than about giving her birthday presents.

When she managed to get back to Leadworth, to Amy and Rory, she didn't really know when her birthday exactly is. She didn’t exactly care about it, she had something entirely different on her mind. Everything changed when he came into her life. He insisted on celebrating every single one of her birthday - even the ones in the past. He throws her parties - he calls them 'past birthday parties' - and keeps saying they're cool (‘ _River, these are birthday parties for your past birthdays! And we are celebrating them now! How isn’t it the coolest thing ever?_ ’).

He gives her small gifts for all of her birthdays she'd spent alone. (He even goes back in time and leaves a small gifts for the little scared girl in the orphanage. A dream catcher. A doll with ginger hair. A figure of a Roman soldier. A book with fairy tales. As a child, she thought that these were gifts from the old mad man who took care of her. Turns out she wasn't that wrong.)

As for her present birthday, he's really creative. Every year he surprises her with another wonderful idea. One year he decorates the entire Stormcage in white lilies, TARDIS blue garlands and asks all the guards to sing her a hymn. Next birthday, he asks Marylin Monroe to sing her the famous 'Happy Birthday'. The rest if this evening is a bit of a blur, but when she wakes up, she finds out she married both Marylin (for the first time) and the Doctor (again).

There’s also the year when he tries to bake her a birthday cake. A TARDIS shaped birthday cake. He manages to set the whole kitchen on fire and it annoys The Old Girl so much that she kicks them both out and leaves them in an IKEA megastore. At night. Which turns out not to be that much of a punishment, as they test durability of almost every bed in the bedroom section of the store.

Every year she thinks that he won’t ever be able to outdone himself next year when it comes to her birthday.

(Spoilers: he always does.)

 

**012.**

‘Am I different in the future?’

‘River, you know I can’t tell you that.’

‘Come on, just tell me something.’

‘No! It’s dangerous and you know what damage it can cause!’

‘I don’t mean anything big. Just something small. What will I like? Will I cut my hair? Will I ever have a pet?’

‘You’ll like my hats. You’ll love them! You’ll buy me them. Often. Yes. You, River Song – you’ll love my hats.’

‘That is such a lie.’

‘What? No! I never lie! Okay, I do lie, but this one is true!’

‘Sweetie. I have nothing against hats, but the ones you choose are simply hideous...’

‘Oi!’

‘... and I think we have to agree that your fashion taste in general is pretty terrible.’

‘River!’

‘Sweetie, I am just stating a fact.’

‘Well, if what you’re saying it’s true and you still like me, what does it say about you?’

‘That my taste in men is as awful as your taste in fashion.’

‘Exact- River!’

 

**603.**

They got married. Again.

In a way that may not be legally binding or conventional. Again.

Great, she thinks. Another anniversary to keep track of.

But this time, he’s so very young and absolutely terrified of the fact that he may be her husband. Right now, he’s trying to explain to the locals that they had no idea that running together into a body of water is a part of wedding ceremony on this planet. The man he’s talking with merely shrugs, and with a smile shoves him towards her.

‘You talk with him,’  he says, cheeks flushed, his voice slightly panicked. ‘He doesn’t understand that ran into that lake because we were chased by a group of Zygrans living in their forest. I told him that this is not how getting married works for us, but he just nods, smiles and tells me I should...’ he stutters.

‘You should what?’ she asks with a smirk and he blushes. She knows what he was going to say and she does know about the wedding customs on Ktarchia, but it’s so easy to wind him up when he’s so young. She just cannot help herself.

‘I, I, he says I should, uhm...,‘ he gulps nervously and looks around, as if looking for an escape route. ‘He says that there’s a second part of a wedding ceremony, and that now I have to,’ he stutters again, and blushes even further. ‘ _NowIhavetokissyou_ ,’ he says that as one word, looking scared and ready to pass out. He’s making it too easy for her.

‘Oh, that’s all? Well, I guess we should get on with that. And don’t worry, I don’t bite,’ she says and watches as his eyes widen comically.

‘What? No, we cannot do this River, it is-’, he cannot finish what was trying to say, because she cuts him off with a kiss. It’s a chaste one, just a light press of her lips on his and she backs off after a few seconds – the man standing behind them is laughing and clapping his hands – but he looks like he’s about to have a heart attack.

‘You-you-you,’ he stutters, blushing red and waving his hands everywhere, ‘you kissed me!’

‘Yes I did, sweetie,’ she nods. ‘Now, if you can stop flailing around like a mad person, maybe we could find out what Zygrans are doing in this part of the universe? Not to mention that we have to find Amy and Rory.’ She raises her eyebrow and leaves him standing there – still looking a bit shocked. He hasn’t noticed yet that there’s an imprint of her lipstick on his mouth and he looks at her with a mixed expression of awe and panic. But he nods and follows her quickly, almost tripping over a small rock in his path.

‘Be careful, dear’ she says when he catches his balance.

‘You know it doesn’t count, right? The wedding, I mean. It’s a pagan ceremony on an alien planet,’ he babbles nervously, skipping by her side like an over-excited puppy, ’and it just doesn’t count! Who even thought it’d be a good idea to get married by running into a river – pardon me. It’s a stupid idea, right?’

He looks at her, flustered and she will be damned, but she really cannot help herself.

‘You know,’ she pretends to think and sighs, ‘you said the exact same thing about the last one.’

‘What? The last one?’ he exclaims. ‘What do you mean? River!’

 

**942.**

There are times when she thinks she imagined it all. She must have. There’s no other explanation.

Maybe she made him up. Maybe she made everything up: their adventures, their story, her involvement, his feelings. Maybe it’s yet another lie, put inside her head, repeated over and over again, until she believed it.

It’d be so much easier if it was just a made-up story inside her head. If she dreamed him up, put together pieces of stories and legends, created a picture of him in her mind.

If he was just a product of her overactive imagination, everything would hurt less.

It would hurt less to see him drifting away from her, slipping away, becoming a man who doesn’t know her. A man who doesn’t trust her, who looks at her with an unfriendly glare and iciness in his eyes.

A man who doesn’t love her.

A man who doesn’t even remember her.

(And yet she remembers everything: every whispered word, every kiss and every caress, every adventure and every breathless run, every time they saved the day and every failure, every argument and all the apologies.

Why can’t she forget as well?)

She knows that their last meeting is coming. She feels it in her hearts: she can feel her time is running out, quicker with every passing second.

She thinks it might just kill her.

 

**052.**

Sometimes when he picks her up on their nightly adventures, he insists that they should stay in TARDIS this time. They wander through all the undiscovered rooms (they find an ice skate ring, a game room and a small spa. One night they even find a hat room and they spend four hours there, Doctor trying on various and horrendous hats while she tries to destroy as many of them as possible), and get lost in the labyrinth of corridors (‘We are not lost River, this is my time machine, I know exactly where we are!’).

But this one is different: he takes her with him under the console, tells her to sit in the repair swing and teaches her how to put power cables together. It’s a mundane and boring task, and it’s definitely not what she hoped to be doing in the swing. When she tells him that, he blushes and tries to back away from her wandering hands while muttering ‘please River, it is important.’

She shrugs, because come on, how will it ever come in handy for her? – but suddenly his eyes are serious, his gaze is heavy and she cannot help but nod and follow his instructions.

 

**958.**

It’s funny, but she forgot all about it. But now she remembers it, oh, she remembers.

(She remembers that night, she remembers his hands upon hers, teaching her patiently the best ways to combine cords together. She remembers how many times she tried, she remembers his forced smile when she completed the task all by herself.)

She’s sitting in a metal chair, blinking away tears while she works on putting the cords in the right order. She needs to get it right to transfer the data and save all the people stuck on the hard drive.

(It’s so clear now, she finally has all the pieces and the picture is completed: he’s been preparing her for this. He’s been preparing her the whole time. She simply didn’t notice.)

He’s lying a few feet away from her, still unconscious after she knocked him out. But it’s not him, not yet anyway. She still loves him – how could she not? – but he’s not the man she’s love with. But if she saves him, he may become her Doctor.

(Was it worth it? Is he worth it? There’s only one answer she can give to these questions.)

(Yes.)

 

**752.**

'Doctor, where are- what in the heaven's name is this?'

'It's a giraffe.'

'And how did it get here?'

'I... I might have materialised around him by accident. But look at him! Isn't he the coolest giraffe you've ever seen? I named him George.'

'That's lovely dear, but you have to get rid of him.'

'What? No!'

'It's not staying!'

'He has a name, River! And who are you to decide that - my mother?'

'Sweetie, if you think about me as your mother after what we did last night-'

'River! He can hear you, you know.'

'- I think you should visit Freud. And George is not staying.'

'He is! Don't worry George, she's just being stubborn. She'll change her mind, I promise.'

'What are you doing?'

'I’m talking with George. I speak giraffe.'

'You don't.'

'I sure do.'

'Do you also speak idiot? Because I am pretty sure you're doing it right now.'

'River! I know, I know, George. She is a mean lady. What? No, you cannot eat her hair! You may choke on it! It's a lot of hair, you know and- why are you smirking, River?'

'Your giraffe just pooped in the floor.'

'What! Bad George! I told you where the toilet is! River, where are you going?'

'To our room. You stay and clean up. And don't come to me until you leave George where you found him. We don't need another giraffe in here, do we?'

'Another giraffe? What do you- River! That's not nice!'

 

**626.**

His visits grow more and more apart. He is getting younger and younger, drifting away from her.  She’s the one who calls and visits him now, drops unexpectedly in the TARDIS with an invitation for an adventure. Sometimes she breaks out of the Stormcage and travels on her own, but it doesn’t feel quite the same. Sometimes, when her Doctor doesn’t show up for a long time, she spends nights in her cell, curled up on her bunk, reading her diary, re-living their previous adventures.

She misses him.

(On days like this, she needs to remember. She needs to remind herself that all these things really happened, that she did not make them up inside her head.

She needs to remember that he’s real.

She needs to remember that they are real.)

 

**064.**

He once said: ‘I’ll always be there to catch you, River. Always.’ But this man can barely park his TARDIS in the right millennium, so how can she trust him to catch her in a middle of a fall? But desperate times call for desperate measures. And the times are desperate.

Because she might be in Las Vegas (the 52nd century asteroid, not the city). And she might’ve stolen the all the money they have there. Although, ‘steal’ is not the right word. She won it, she did: she’s a genius, she has a system. The problem is that the casino cheated. When she told them that, the owner got a bit angry. And when she insulted the guards – well, this was the moment when it got ugly. Turns out the Sontarans really do not like being called ‘ugly eggs’. So now she’s running through the casino, up to the rooftop, money and chips in her bag (it’s bigger on the inside), a huge group of Sontarans right behind her, hot on her heels. She manages to scribble the coordinates on a piece of the psychic paper he gave her some time ago, sends it and hopes that he’ll read her message. She kicks the door leading to the roof open and runs to the edge. One look down is enough to make her dizzy – she’s 600 feet up, she cannot distinguish anything on the ground and for a second she wonders if it really is a good idea to jump, but the Sontarans burst through the door and start shooting at her.

She jumps.

She’s falling, falling, falling, the air is icy around her and for a second she think that this is the end: he did not get her message, he won’t come here and catch her, but suddenly the _oh-so-familiar_ noise fills her ears and vibrates through her whole body. Suddenly, he has his arms around her and whispers in her ear ‘I’ve got you, I’ve got you, you’re safe.’

(Later, every time she’s about to jump from a spaceship or off a building, she always thinks about that moment – the first time he caught her in mid-air and kept her in his embrace.

He’s always there.

Just like he’d promised.)

 

**893.**

'River? Can we go somewhere? I'm bored.'

'Doctor, I am working. And you are distracting me.'

'Oh well. I am good at distracting. I could distract you some more, professor Song.'

'Sweetie, I meant that you are whiny and annoying.'

'Well, that's because I am bored! You are fiddling with this old thing and I have nothing to do!'

'I am _reconstructing_ a vase from early Shang dynasty. And you should be happy that I am fond of old things.'

'And why is that?' '

‘You are old.'

'What? No! Excuse me! I am mature!'

'You mean when you are not behaving like a 5 year old?'

'I let you know that I am over 1000 years old and I deserve some respect.'

'Sweetie, you may be 1000 year old, but you look like a 12 year old.'

'Hey, that's regeneration for you.'

'Somehow I could focus on my dress size.'

'Shame you didn't focus on your hair!'

'Did you say something sweetie?'

'... No.'

'I thought so. Now hush. I am working.'

'... But River, I am really bored.'

'Why did I agree to marry you again?'

 

**672.**

There are many stories about them.

She reads them all, even though he scoffs at her for that. 'It's all idle gossip, River'. It turns out he's wrong – in a way. Most of the books got the facts straight. At least some of the facts. But the problem doesn't lie with times and places - these are the least important.

It's interpretations that are faulty. According to the books they're time-crossed lovers, they're deadly enemies trying to kill each other, they are pre-destined to be together and there's nothing they can do to escape it or break the spell. Their story is painted in colours of love or hate, tenderness or blood, freedom or captivity. No one gets it right.

No one sees that it's a story of choices.

They choose all the time. Their story is evolving and changing with every passing second and they are the ones who write it. They are also the ones who can erase it. Their pasts and futures intervened together, twisting and turning, offering so many possibilities at every turn.

So they choose. Over and over again.

She can only hope their choices will lead them back to each other.

 

**752.**

‘I am not letting you drag me into another mad adventure again!’

‘I am not dragging you into anything.’

‘Oh right. You only want me to drop everything and help you, without telling me any details.’

‘You know I can’t tell you anything.’

‘Such a great excuse. You think you can say ‘spoilers’ and everything will be fine? That it’ll make me trust you?’

‘You trust me. In the future.’

‘I don’t trust you now.’

‘Sweetie-‘

‘Don’t call me that. I’m not your sweetie.’

‘Fine. Doctor – are you staying or not? I will do it with or without you. You don’t have to stay and help me.’

‘Ugh. Just... This one time.’

‘Thank you.’

‘... I could run you know.’

‘I know.’

‘I could run far away from you.’

‘You cannot run forever, my love.’

‘I could try.’

‘You could. The question is – will you?’

 

**957.**

Right after she knocks him out and cuffs his hand to a pipe, she writes the last words in her diary. They say: ‘ _You are forgiven. Always and completely._ ’

(She knows he’ll need them. Maybe one day he – the older him, her Doctor – will read her diary, see these words and understand that this is what had to happen.

This is what always happens.

And maybe her words will ease his guilt. Because she knows he must’ve felt guilty, every time he met and looked at her, he must’ve remembered and felt the guilt burning him, eating him alive. Now she understands all the looks he sometimes sent her way: the pained look of regret, the quiet sadness.

Longing for something already lost.) 


End file.
